I don't know what I need to explain, what trespass I may've unwittingly made in the cat world. Oh well. He seems to realise I cannot know, for he now gazes, sober, at the trees behind the house.
And about Jimmy Cagney, I say his body was like a dog but his head like a cat's.
I watched The Public Enemy last night. There were a lot of simply good movies in the 1930s. Movies that were just nice stories without worrying about being mega-watt blockbleeders but adhering to a no-sloppy philosophy.
It's the movie that made Cagney a star and it's got the grapefruit in the face scene. And a surprisingly small role for Jean Harlow.
A good bunch of guys who happen to be bootleggers and occasionally robbers and vandals. Done well.